In the Age of Gods, the underworld wasn't just a vague, ethereal concept—it was a realm of death buried deep underground, built within the shadowy layers of the earth.
In a dim valley, jagged rocks cast dense shadows, shrouding the land in gloom and mystery. At the center, a raging black river churned and twisted through its course, sending up waves that splashed with the distorted faces of humans. Their shrill cries and wails echoed, adding an eerie chill to the air.
In stark contrast, numerous spear-shaped cages stood on both sides of the valley. Inside, clusters of faint blue soul flames flickered peacefully, their outlines vaguely resembling their former human selves. Some even still wore remnants of bright, colorful clothing.
Clearly, the scattered spear-cages served to soothe the souls of the dead, maintaining their sanity and keeping the underworld's residents from falling into madness and losing their way.
Deeper in the mountainous valleys stood the towering spire-shaped Temple of Meslamtaea, radiating gentle warmth. A faint red glow pierced through the heavy deathly fog, bringing a touch of warmth—the start of another ordinary day in the underworld.
Teams of Gallû Spirits, wrapped in mist and exuding a cold, sinister aura, patrolled instinctively across different zones. Meanwhile, in the areas separated by seven sealed gates, the ghosts residing in the spear-cages stirred from their slumber, whispering to each other in faint, muffled voices.
The underworld, after all, was a place of death and decay.
As time passed, even with the protection of the cages, without the support of physical bodies, the souls would gradually be worn down, losing their memories and emotions, eventually dissolving into nothingness.
And so, this land was ultimately more silent than lively.
But then came the slithering sound of scales brushing against the stone path through the death fog. The drowsy underworld residents inside their cages stirred, soul flames flickering wildly.
A snake marked with black patterns slithered through the path, flicking its tongue as it passed by the cages, cheerfully greeting the residents like a landowner patrolling his estate.
"Uncle Barag! Old Um said the beer you brewed with that secret recipe of yours tastes just like horse piss!"
"Kusim! Nash! Weren't you two gonna fight? What, chickening out now?"
"Big bro Ninnuta! I found him—it was that bastard Dam! After you died, he slept with your wife and beat your kid!"
Buzz!
The once deathly quiet cages erupted. Underworld residents who had found their targets burst into a storm of curses. They greeted each other's female relatives and expressed their desire to form father-son relationships far beyond blood ties.
Ah, what a vibrant, noisy, and delightful day.
The snake glanced at the flickering figures inside the cages, delightedly soaking in the barrage of "friendly" greetings. It wagged its tail in satisfaction and slithered deeper into the still valley.
Damn it!
That bastard!
The enraged underworld residents flipped their middle fingers—an imported gesture—hurling fierce insults at the unruly serpent.
Unfortunately, the mindless Gallû Spirits instinctively avoided the foul creature, which reeked of the Temple of Meslamtaea's aura. Otherwise, the residents would've happily chopped it into seventy or eighty pieces and thrown it into a pot to make stew.
Just as ripples of commotion spread across the dead-silent underworld, the source of the chaos had already coiled itself under a dark green rock.
After a moment, the black serpent emptied its mind, letting its consciousness rise as it sent out a cheerful message.
Good morning, Tiamom...
It was unclear how much time passed before the air faintly trembled. From the void came a near-imperceptible ripple, like the gentlest of replies.
Success!
The snake's vertical pupils narrowed as it looked up, its triangular head nodding with excitement.
Above it, an invisible "spider thread" stretched from the core of its soul, piercing the outer shell of the World Egg and plunging into the Sea of Imaginary Numbers. At its far end, the loop coiled gently around the ring finger of a towering, divine being.
Through that fragile thread, a subtle connection formed between them.
Mother Goddess...
The snake hissed softly, suppressing its instinctive excitement. It murmured in reverence, the corners of its mouth curving into a satisfied smile.
Come to think of it, this was all thanks to Gilgamesh's exile.
Indeed, when the Divine Construct Ea tore through the world, its immense power forced Ian's already unstable soul back into the Sea of Imaginary Numbers, nearly annihilating it.
However, Ian had also come to meet the goddess who had granted him new life—Tiamat.
At the same time she helped her "beloved child" return, the Mother of Genesis forged a faint connection between the Sea of Imaginary Numbers and the World Egg, as well as between herself and Ian. In doing so, Ian became an anchor embedded within the inner layers of the world.
With such an anchor, perhaps Tiamat—the life ark adrift in the Sea of Imaginary Numbers—could inch closer to the real world, drawn and held steady by its pull.
Of course, the fantasy was beautiful. But reality, as always, was far more cruel.
When Ian tried tugging on the thin spider-silk thread anchored in the fire of his soul, all it earned him was a splitting headache. The towering figure floating in the Sea of Imaginary Numbers didn't budge an inch.
A mere snake, dreaming of dragging the exiled Mother of Genesis back to reality? Ridiculous!
Coming to terms with reality, Ian drooped his head with a bitter laugh, recognizing how absurd his hopes had been.
His flimsy, scrawny little body couldn't possibly haul a divine ship like Tiamat—an entity that weighed millions of tons.
So… if I want to help, I need to become stronger?
And I'll need more anchor lines to support the return of Mother Goddess Tiamat?
Ian lowered his head thoughtfully, then glanced at himself and gave a self-deprecating smile.
I really did want to help… but isn't the "love" you gave me a little too heavy?
In truth, it was Ian—the frail ancient snake—who had gained the most from this link with the Goddess of Beginning.
Out of love for her children reborn within the World Egg, the Mother of Genesis had granted him a fragment of her Authority through the spider thread, giving him the means to protect himself.
The Authority of the Beast—Self-Modification!
With it, he could channel his mana to construct a life framework and reshape his physical form.
In other words… he could become human again?
The idea of using Self-Modification to reclaim his first human shape filled Ian with excitement.
He had been crawling on his belly for so long, he had nearly forgotten what walking felt like. If this kept up, he feared he'd fully regress into a snake.
It's not safe out here. Should I go back and give it a try?
Yeah, give it a shot!
With a burst of excitement, the ancient snake darted through the death fog, rushing straight into a corner of the Temple of Meslamtaea.
His features had to carry the defined structure of the West—yet also possess the gentle refinement of the East!
He couldn't be too short!
Good looks were essential! This was a world where appearances mattered!
Ian muttered nonstop as he urgently mobilized the sliver of Authority inside him, ready to start shaping his new face and form.
But before he could act, a skeletal claw formed from the temple's grey death mist seized the tip of his tail, dragging the long serpent all the way to an oversized bed.
"Don't make noise…"
"I've been working too much lately. I really don't want to get up and start making Spear-Cages…"
The blonde goddess, eyes still shut, seemed to be talking to herself—or maybe just mumbling complaints in a sleepy grumble.
The heat radiating from the glowing Temple of Fire into the underworld had made her kick off her blanket. She turned over and clung to a cool, black, rectangular body pillow like a koala.
"Mmm… yeah, just a little more sleep…"
Held tightly by his slumbering mistress, the ancient snake waited until the weary underworld goddess drifted back into sleep. Then he slowly stretched his stiff body, as if reaching some profound realization.
Honestly… being human or not doesn't really matter.
With that, the black serpent's head relaxed and drooped down, comfortably resting on his mistress's softly rising and falling chest.